I Wish You All the Luck in the World
by bofurbrummells
Summary: The story of Bofur, Bombur and Bifur before the Quest for Erebor.
1. The Birth of a Strong Horse

Bifur hurried through the already open door to the busy room belonging to his Aunt. Family members from near around had gathered at the news that a new dwarf, a new Broadbeam had been brought into the world.

"Sorry for my lateness," Bifur huffed out, gently closing the door. "But I had a problem with my toys and- besides that's not important right now. I came as soon as I heard, is it true there is another Broadbeam in our family?"

The dwarves parted to reveal a tired looking she-dwarf, propped up in bed with a small bundle in her arms. Her older son, Bombur, was beside her, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse at his new baby brother.

Bifur stepped forward and fumbled in his pockets. The first item he brought out was a small, carved, wooden horse, mid-canter, its legs strong and its mane and tail billowing in the wind. "I did not want to come by and present my new cousin or my aunt with nothing, but many is sparse right now and-"

"Bifur," His Aunt cut in a smile on her face. "Any gift is worth all the gold in Erebor if it is coming from my Firebeard."

He grinned sheepishly at her words and continued. "But here is a strong horse for an equally soon-to-be dwarrow." He moved around and sat on the end of the bed and handed the horse over to Bombur who was waiting with expected arms. Before Bifur could utter another word, Bombur shifted along the bed and settled himself in Bifur's lap, his round, red face smiling up at him.

The other dwarves in the room politely made their excuses to leave and left the four family dwarves on their own. Watching the last dwarf elder leave, Bifur fished into his pocket for his final gift.

"And this is a carving knife, a toy making knife. While he may be mighty too young to use it now, when he is older, I shall teach him my trade," Bifur leaned forward, carefully holding Bombur with one hand so he would not fall, and looked at the sleeping dwarrow's face. "Besides, he looks like the kind to make toys."

His Aunt smiled and softly stroked a finger over the babe's cheek. "I look like the kind to cook," Bombur chirped before he bit onto a bread roll that was occupying his other hand.

Bifur laughed along with Bombur's mother and hugged the young dwarf on his lap tight against his chest. "What be the dwarrow's name?" Bifur asked, putting the knife back away, safely in his pocket.

"Bofur," replied the she-dwarf. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Can I be trusted?" Bifur joked.

"But of course," She replied, sitting herself up more.

Bombur shuffled himself off his cousin's lap as Bofur was carefully handed over. Bifur held him carefully in his arms, a dirty gloved hand supporting the young dwarrow's head.

He had always wanted children himself but he had never found the right she-dwarf to settle down with. A few had caught his eye but his trade that he loved doing the most did not suit them and Bifur always had to choose between woman and profession, and his profession always won.

He looked down at the sleeping dwarrow in his arms as it shuffled in its sleep. It slowly woke and blinked its large, green eyes up at its older cousin. Bifur couldn't help but gasp a smile as Bofur seemed to smile up at him.

"Doesn't he look just like his Father," Bifur grinned to his Aunt who reciprocated.

Bombur stood on the bed next to Bifur, coming up to his shoulder and looked at his now awake sibling. Bombur happily blinked his bright blue eyes as Bofur did so with his green ones. "He looks different," The young dwarrow said, naively.

"Of course he looks different," Bifur chirped. "You look like your Ma whilst your brother here looks like your Da."

"How long is he going to stay around?" The dwarrow asked again.

"Well," Bombur's Mother began.

"As long as he wants to stay around." Bifur finished.

"Can I help take care of him?"

"We all can," Bifur choked out the last of his words as a small, soft hand gripped his thumb tightly. "I wish you all the luck in the world, young Bofur, I really do."


	2. To Protect You

Bifur ran into his household, almost colliding with his young cousin sat on the floor, playing with a toy dragon and toy dwarves – a gift given to him for his birthday previous.

"Bifur!" Bofur whined out as Bifur's clumsy boot had collided with the dragon, knocking it over. He rose from the floor and picked it up, only coming up to Bifur's waist or less.

He looked at his older cousin but the worried look he had on his face scared him. Bifur knelt down to Bofur's eye level. "Where's your brother?" He asked.

"Having a nap," Bofur replied honestly, turning and pointing to their bedroom before turning back. The dragon was held protectively in his hands as he watched Bifur's eyes scan upwards towards the door.

The dwarrow became more and more worried as every second travelled by where Bifur didn't say a word. It was the middle of the day during the week and Bifur wasn't expected back 'til much later when he was supposed to cook their dinner – with the added, insisted help of Bombur.

Ever since their mother's sudden death, Bifur had moved in with his cousins and uncle, providing extra adult care for the two dwarrow's who were not yet of age. He had been clear with them that he had not wanted to have been called 'Uncle' as he did not want to replace any adult they had lost in their life, but with the recent news he had discovered, it seemed like now he had no choice.

"Bofur, listen to me, listen to me clearly," Bifur began, placing his hands on the dwarrow's shoulders. "There was a rock slide at the mines… your father…"

He watched Bofur's face as well as the dragon drop as he reached inside his coat and pulled out his father's brown hat, with its trademark fur lining and upturned ear flaps. The hat seemed battered and dust-ladened and Bofur looked down at it in Bifur's hands, his eyes wide and unmoving.

"Several dwarves were lost, we cannot find them… all they found… was your father's hat."

Bofur's lip quivered and he leaped forward, hugging Bifur tightly round his neck, catching him off guard. He howled into his shoulder as his cousin rocked him back and forth, muttering comforting words into the dwarrow's ears.

"M-maybe he's still there," Bofur sobbed out, now clutching the hat in his tiny, gloved hands.

"I do not think so," Bifur replied, pulling out of the hug. He held Bofur's wet cheek in one hand, his heart aching at the distraught look that was plastered on his cousin's face.

"Wh-what are me and my brother to do? Who is to look after us?" He said his words mainly to himself, his face buried in the hat.

Bifur gave a sympathetic smile and sat on the floor, pulling the dwarrow into his lap. He carefully plucked the hat out of Bofur's hands and placed it on his head, tapping him softly under his chin. "I am. I'm here. I'm here to look after you both."

Bofur's sobbed quietened down at his cousin's words and his tears had brought on tiredness and he nestled in closer to Bifur's chest.

"I wish you all the luck in the world," Bifur whispered, rising, the dwarrow still clutched in his arms, the large hat, almost covering his face. He carried him back to his shared room with Bombur and laid him down next to his brother. "I really do."


	3. Learn by Looking

_**Hi guys! I just want to thank you for taking the time to read all my drabbles and t'ings. Reviews and comments are gladly appreciated.  
**_

* * *

"Bifur, can I come with you to your toy stall?" Bofur asked one day.

"Huh?" Bifur mumbled as he was packing his tools for the day. He turned to see his waist-high cousin standing there innocently, hands behind his back, his father's – now his – hat on his head.

"Can I come with you to your toy stall? You always say that you were going to teach me how to make toys one day," As he spoke he brought his hands forward, producing Bifur's old carving knife that he had presented to his cousin a few years ago.

"Where did you get that?" Bifur asked, slightly irked as he took the knife out of Bofur's hands. "It's sharp – it's dangerous, you could've hurt yourself, lad."

He noted how distraught Bofur seemed to become, and with a quick glance at his old knife, and then back at his cousin, he sighed and handed it back to him. "What about your brother, hmm?"

"He's down at the kitchens."

"Again?" Bifur rolled his eyes.

"Aye, he loves it there." Bofur replied. "He should get back when we do."

"Very well, keep that knife in its pouch, then." The elder dwarf smiled, having finished packing.

* * *

"And then, lad, you have to carefully round that corner there and…" He paused as Bofur did so. "…then you're finished. Give it a go then." He smiled as Bofur put down the tools and held the instrument in his hands.

He had started off Bofur with doing something simple and had set him the task of making a clarinet – the same first item Bifur had made in his youth. He watched with baited breath as Bofur held the instrument to his lips, placing his fingers over some of the holes and with a big intake of air, Bofur blew out a soft note on the instrument.

Bifur patted him on the back, almost knocking the hat off his head. Bofur tilted it back up with one hand and grinned up at his cousin. "I did it, I did it, Bifur."

"Aye, you did, lad." He replied, settling himself down on the stool behind the stall.

He smiled fondly at the joy crawling through the young dwarrow. _'No, not young any more'_ Bifur thought. He sometimes forgot that his cousins were growing more and more every day. Every time they grew taller, every time their voices got slightly deeper than the day before – they were growing from dwarrows into dwarves and they were growing fast. Bombur the other day had even found his first hair on his chin, much to the envy of his younger brother. They were maturing and ready to be dwarves of the world.

Bofur saw Bifur sit down and immediately climbed onto his lap. "Tell me a story about dragons," The young dwarf chirped.

"I wish you _all_ the luck in the world," Bifur whispered under his breath. "I _really_ do."

'_Maybe not dwarves yet.'_


	4. The Damaged Dwarf

_**Thanks to all your reviews and views! They really help with wanting to carry on all my stories, thank you.**_

* * *

"Bifur!" The two dwarves yelled out, their voices breaking from constant cries.

The land around them was desolate and looked almost barren. It was hard to believe that only a day ago, this land had been plentiful with dwarves, she-dwarves and dwarrows; market stalls and other trades alike but now, the burning wrecks of the place were what was left. Bodies of dwarves who had bravely fought against the surprised Orc attack were now lying on the floor, medics struggling to heal the ones that were barely alive.

It had been Bombur who had felt the worrying feeling deep in his bones. He would always arrive first home and now that he was much older, he would cook their dinner instead of Bifur doing so. After him, Bifur would always arrive next and around ten minutes later, Bofur would come through the door, mattock in hand, dirty and tired from his work in the mines. That was their routine and Bofur never returned before Bifur.

So when his brother walked through the door, his cheery whistling indicating that he was well, sounded through the halls, Bombur brought the pot of stew off the stove, took off his apron and wondered out to meet his brother.

"Why are you back?" Bombur asked his voice low.

Bombur placed his mattock in a large barrel by the door, a place where the household weapons – for protection – were kept. He looked awkwardly at his brother, but with a smile still on his face. "Because I have returned home, brother," Bofur replied, rubbing his beard. "Bombur, are you well?"

"No," Bombur shook his head. "I mean, why are you back before Bifur?"

Bofur was in the midst of taking off his coat but stopped at his brother's words, his eyes wide. "You mean he is not back yet?"

"No, he is late and it is getting dar-"

Before Bombur could finish his words, a fellow miner knocked on their door and Bofur yanked it open, thinking it were Bifur. He was ready to chastise but stopped when he saw his friend. "To what do we owe?" Bofur asked, calmly.

"The Orcs, they came!" The miner blurted out. "I only just heard. They attacked the markets."

Bofur instantly turned to his brother. "Bombur, your coat." And grabbing his mattock ran out of his house with his brother in tow.

And now here they were, wandering about the markets for their kin. They searched every throng of dwarf medics working on each wounded victim – ranging from young to old – to the deceased with covers over their heads for decency and they were growing more and more frantic with every passing second.

"Bifur!" Bofur cried again for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Bofur," Bombur uttered, patting his arm. He pointed to where he heard a sound of faint mumbling and there on the ground, laid their cousin.

The brothers ran as fast as their legs could carry them and instantly they were beside Bifur, their faces contorted with despair and worry.

"Bifur, Bifur," Bofur asked, kneeling beside the elder dwarf. He gasped when he noted a broken Orc axe lodged in his forehead. "Bombur," Bofur snapped his head up to his brother who was leaning over their cousin, his hands resting on his knees. "He still breathes, run and get help, please."

The red haired dwarf sprinted towards another throng of the dwarf medics, begging any to spare some time to come and aid their relative. Seeing no one take notice of him, Bombur almost gave up, totally defeated and exasperated but a loud voice soon caught his attention. "Bombur, is that you, lad?"

The brother looked up and spotted Oin walking towards him."Oin? Yes, yes it is. Can you help us? Bifur… Bifur is wounded."

"Course, lad," The medic nodded. "Show me where."

Bombur instantly ran off, his breath come out in ragged puffs as he made it back over to his family. Bofur moved out of the way, picking up Bifur's bloody boar spear as he moved. "Can you do anything for him?" He asked his voice thick with emotion.

"We need to get him inside." Oin stated.

* * *

Oin walked out of Bifur's room, a sad look on his face. Bombur and Bofur who were sat worriedly outside rose quickly, their hands outstretched, almost pleading towards the old dwarf.

"How… how is he?" Bombur asked, worriedly, his hands shaking.

Oin sighed and collected up his belongings. He stopped and gazed at the two brothers. "I did all I could but he is still alive and breathing."

A wave of relief washed over the dwarves and they smiled. "What a relief." Bofur grinned.

"However," Oin stated, wincing as their smiles disappeared. "I could not remove the Orc axe from his forehead. I believe that if it is moved, then you will no longer have a cousin. Also," He continued, putting on his cloak. "He no longer speaks."

"N-n-no longer speaks?"

"I imagine the axe has somewhat damaged his mind and with that, damaged his speech. He only seems to utter Khuzdul now." Oin moved to the front door and turned to look back at the brothers. "I'm sorry I could not do more."

"Can we see him?" asked Bombur.

"Yes, but one at a time, it might overwhelm and scare him." And with that, Oin left and wandered out into the night.

Bombur turned to his brother a sighed out a worried breath. "Do you want to check on him first? I still have that stew to deal with."

"Aye, alright." Bofur nodded.

He padded over towards Bifur's bedroom and braced himself for what to expect. He slowly opened the door and wandered into the gloom, trying to be quiet so as to not startle his cousin. He sat softly on the bed and held a soft hand over Bifur's, wincing as he shuffled in his sleep.

"I don't really know how much this accident is going to affect us all…" Bofur whispered softly. "Maybe things will go back to normal, maybe they won't. But know, Bifur, my friend, that your young cousins are here. We're both agreed that you must have fought bravely against those Orc's, we know how brave you all are. Just…" He sighed and shook his head, glancing at the offending article lodged in his cousin's forehead. "Today… wasn't your day."

Bifur seemed to sense that his cousin was beside him and his fingers seemed to grip back against his cousin's, grasping onto Bofur's thumb. The dwarf looked down at the soft grip and couldn't help but feel a sense that this had happened before.

"Don't worry, Bifur, I'll take care of you." Bofur smiled. "And I wish you all the luck in the world, I really do."


	5. Rising From the Ashes

_**Thanks for all your reads and reviews, particularly bellechat, thank you for keeping me motivated!**_

* * *

It had been many moons since Bifur's injury occurred. Bofur could never forget that day after the accident, where Bifur had emerged from his room, a petrified look on his face as the two brothers gazed at him with baited breath. Neither said anything for a while but the silence, getting the better of Bofur, caused him to walk forward with a smile on his face towards his cousin. The elder dwarf eyed him suspiciously until Bofur uttered the words. "Morning, cousin Bifur."

He could see the thoughts whirring through Bifur's head at those words – this dwarf before him was family. He did not reply to the words but Bofur could sense that Bifur understood him. The dwarf ambled over to the recently lit fire and sat in front of it, his eyes staring into the flickering flames. Bombur moved to stand next to his brother, their eyes still locked on their cousin.

"He seems calm," Bombur whispered. "He seems… collected. Do you think he understands that we are his kin?"

"Aye," Bofur whispered back, just as softly. "I just think it'll take time until he's back to his normal, toy-making self."

"Do you think he'll ever return back to normal?"

Bofur looked at Bombur and smiled sadly at his brother's furrowed brow. "That I cannot say. I hope… I hope so."

* * *

A month or so later and not much had changed regarding the damaged dwarf. The constant looks from his cousins caused Bifur to become unnerved so spent every waking moment sat by the fire, whittling and carving away, a bowl of flowers to snack on to get him through the day. He didn't venture out any more, it seemed like he had become scared of the outside world. The ever increasing number of days that Bifur said nothing were wearing down on the brothers and Bofur had many a sleepless night, unable to sleep for fear of his cousin's wellbeing.

He wondered how Bifur's brain must be working inside of his head. How his inner cogs must be moving and how his view of the world was now. Whenever someone mentioned the word 'orc', his eyes would twitch and his pupils would dilate.

Bofur wasn't even entirely sure that Bifur knew that Bombur and he were his cousins – blood relatives – he wasn't even sure that Bifur still withheld the memories of their past. Did he remember taking care of his brother and himself as young dwarrows? Did he remember telling him that his Father was no more? Did he remember taking Bofur to his stall? Did he remember the orc attack itself? These questions, Bofur did not know the answers to.

The next day, Bofur awoke and padded out of his room, eager to eat his breakfast before setting out to work in the mines. Now that Bifur was not working and Bombur's job did not earn enough, Bofur had to work as hard as he could muster. He smiled as he saw Bombur by the stove, merrily singing a hearty tune as he worked but Bofur's smiled turned to pity as he looked at Bifur whittling what looked like an animal in his usual spot by the fire.

Accepting his breakfast from his brother with a smile, Bofur gazed out of the window at the sun edging its way through the peaks of the mountains in the distance. He felt quite contented with himself so he did not expect to hear his cousin's utterings.

Bofur turned his head in disbelief and dropped his spoon in the process, it clanging heavily as it collided with the floor. Bifur had risen from his seat and was now holding his finished work proudly in his hands.

"What was that… Bifur?" Bombur asked, in case he had mistaken Khuzdul for the common tongue.

At hearing his name, Bifur raised his head and recoiled slightly at the shocked faces before him but ignored them and turned back to smiling at his work. He grinned from ear to ear and repeated his word, "Horse."

The brothers turned to face each other, their eyes never blinking. Turning back to Bifur, Bofur swallowed thickly. "H-Horse?"

Bifur padded over to Bofur and held the toy up to his face, determined that the word he was speaking was the right word to name his new creation. Bofur looked at the toy and realised that it was the word in question – a strong, braying horse – and with what looked like insistence, Bofur took it from Bifur's hands. Then the younger dwarf watched as Bifur gesticulated with his hands. He placed one fist on top of the other and moved them forward and backwards in circles. "Horse." He repeated again.

The brothers continued to watch as Bifur moved his hands about in different actions as if trying to tell them something. Bombur had brought the porridge off the stove and ambled cautiously over to the display that was occurring, his mouth hanging open.

Bifur spoke in Khuzdul as his hands moved – he held his hands flat against each other and rocked them back and forth then pointed at Bofur and repeated the action. His young cousin gazed as his hands made more gestures he could not understand and he furrowed his brow, trying to work out what his cousin was trying to tell him. Bifur repeated the rocking gesture and Bofur looked up at him.

"Baby?" Bifur nodded and then pointed at Bofur again. "Me?" Bifur nodded again and did more hand gestures and signs that Bofur had no inkling as to what they were but once Bifur signed the word 'horse' again, Bofur felt like he understood. "You gave me a toy horse as a baby?" Bofur asked, clutching the animal tighter in his hands. Bifur grinned and simply replied with a nod and, "Horse."

Bombur leaned forward more. "I remember that, yes. I played with it throughout the remainder of the day." He paused and smiled, reminiscing. "Do you know any other words?" He quietly asked.

Bifur scanned his eyes from brother to brother and breathed in deeply. "Bo-Bombur. Bo-Bofur." And with that, Bifur moved back to the fire and continued to stare.

"He can talk," Bombur whispered, his eyes sparkling. "He is getting better!"

"Slowly," Bofur mumbled, looking down at the horse still clutched in his hands. "But for now, I wish him all the luck in the world, I really do."

Bifur's ears burned at those calming, familiar words. He could understand.


	6. Rumours Around

_**Once again thank you to ave-mah and bellechat for your reviews and of course to everyone else!**_

* * *

Bofur wiped his brow and coughed out the dust from his lungs. His limbs ached and his eyes were heavy and he longed for nothing more than to sit in his chair, in the company of his relatives, and carve. Bifur still sat in his usual spot, cross-legged in front of the fire yet now he no longer stared into the bowels of it but instead busied himself with his old profession of toy making. Several animals from across the lands littered the mantel piece and as each cantering horse and snorting pig that would take up a place by the fire, Bofur would smile. He would smile as the ever growing number of toys meant that Bifur was becoming more confident in himself and that it would only be a matter of time before he was back to his affable market stall.

As Bofur made his way out of the mine, mattock slung over his shoulder, two elderly miners were having a rather loud discussion and Bofur could not help but let himself overhear.

"A quest!" The taller of the two opined. "A quest to reclaim Erebor!"

"Who? Thorin?" The other asked.

"Aye, son of Thrain, son of Thror. He seeks to set out to vanquish Smaug the Terrifying. He is a fool, no dwarf around will be willing to go on a long journey to their deaths and no other being will be wanting to help a goal that isn't theirs to win."

Bofur bowed his head so as not to appear he was listening as the dwarves cautiously looked behind them. "Surely the unclaimed riches of the Lonely Mountain would be enough to tempt any being to aid Thorin on his quest?"

The dwarf's ears burned even more so and he couldn't help but swallow thickly at the words, 'unclaimed riches'. He could not deny it, money was short and the family barely had enough to eat each night, not to mention he was always exhausted from his longer shifts down in the mines. If this quest were true and happening, there was always the possibility of being burnt to cinders by Smaug yet there was also the chance of the quest being a success, no matter how mad it sounded.

"Aye," The taller dwarf continued. "But I would not follow that 'King' for all the gold in Erebor."

Turning down a different path towards his home, Bofur could not help sigh at that last remark. "These dwarves," He breathed out. He stopped and looked at the two senior dwarves making their way over the brow of the small hill. "They're not very loyal are they?" He sighed again and shifted his mattock on his shoulder and headed through his front door.

"Evening, Bifur. Evening, Bombur." Bofur chirped as he shut the front door.

Before he could even place his mattock in the barrel by the door, Bombur ambled over to him, wiping his meat greased hands on a cloth.

"Brother, have you heard of the rumour that is spreading around?"

"What rumour be that, Bombur? You forget I work in the mines and the only chatter I hear is rumours." Bofur smiled in return, finally placing his tool in the barrel.

Bombur followed him as he moved over to the fireplace. He watched as Bofur placed a caring hand on Bifur's shoulder before settling himself down in his chair. "The rumour of reclaiming Erebor!"

Bofur froze and he gazed up at his brother. "Aye," He breathed out. "I have heard of that rumour."

"What do you think of it?"

"What do you?" Bofur asked, getting out his carving equipment from the side of his chair. "Where did you hear of it?"

"I heard of it whilst working in the kitchens. Several dwarves were uttering it and I couldn't help but overhear. I have not heard of a single dwarf who is willing to go however."

"Me neither… Are you willing to go?" Bofur placed his tools back on the floor and rose from his chair. "Because wherever you go, I will follow and thus Bifur will have to also."

At hearing his name, Bifur turned his head and looked at his two cousins. It appeared to him that the two were set to have an argument and so he quickly scrambled to his feet and stood in between them, a hand pressed softly against each of their chests.

"It's alright," Bofur spoke, placing a gloved hand over a top Bifur's. He patted it and said, "We're not having an argument."

Bifur still looked sceptical but nodded at his cousin and sat on Bombur's chair at the other side of the fireplace, keeping a watchful eye on the two.

"I'm still loyal to our past King," Bombur continued. "And if there is a chance to get that extra money to aid my younger brother and cousin… and to do something good then I would gladly do it. You don't have to follow where I go, Bofur-"

"Admirable words, Bombur, truly, but honestly… you are not in the best of health-"

"Aye, that I know but I am tired of being the last in everything."

"But you cannot expect me to wave you off as you go on this journey without me there at your side," Bofur grinned, stepping forward. "And are you even sure that it is happening?"

"No, I do not but I like it known that if the rumour is true then I will go-"

Bombur was cut short by the presence of a hand on his shoulder. Bifur stood there, a contented smile on his face. He moved his hand to his chest and made what sounded like a grunt of approval.

"It seems as if our cousin here is willing to accompany us. Are you certain, Bifur?" Bofur asked. "It could be dangerous and we may all not come back."

Bifur's gruff response seemed to dismiss Bofur's words and he held up his arm and slapped it, a cheeky grin across his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

"Then I wish us all the luck in the world, I really do." Bofur smiled in reply.


End file.
